“Are you a wizard?” Murphy asked.
“How dare you” Callus snapped. “Do I look like a wizard to you?” he asked, affronted.
“Yes”, Murphy said simply.
“I haven’t been a wizard since my youth” the old man replied, turning his nose up.
“What are you then?” The boy asked.
“I’m a Merlin you half wit” Callus replied. He rummaged through the neck of his coat, and grabbed the cord of a necklace. Murphy noticed that he was wearing a few trinkets under the cloak when he saw the man’s neck. He held out a small medallion. It held a clear crystal in its centre, and had intricate and tiny runes on its five edges.
“What’s that thing” Murphy asked with wonder. He stepped in for a closer look, seeming to forget about the scary old man entirely.
“It's my medallion” Callus replied with a confused tone. “What in the hollows has Miata been teaching you?” he scoffed.
“You know my grandfather?” Murphy blurted. He immediately regretted his honesty when he saw the old man’s twisted smile.
“I knew it” Callus replied simply. “You’re a liar boy” he followed.
Before he could respond, the old man snapped his fingers and the ground shook. Murphy tried to jump away, but was halted with a painful crash into a cage wall. Shaped pillars of stone had shot from the ground in a near instant, entrapping him inside. He panicked, and made his best attempt to shake the stone away. This encouraged another chuckle from Callus.
“You’ll regret eating me” The scared boy threatened. “I won’t go down easy”.
“Where is the Smith?” He asked, ignoring the boy. He made a quoting gesture with two fingers when he said the word smith.
“He is out with the hunters, he’ll be back soon, then you’ll be sorry” Murphy said.
“You’re lying again” Callus said, shaking a finger. “I have business with your master, where is he?” he took a step closer to the cage.
“I don’t know” Murphy admitted, “but he will be back soon for true. If you let me out now I might not tell him what you did.” He bargained.
“Fine” Callus snapped, “We will wait here together then” he begrudgingly resigned.
He stomped back over to the fire, and dropped to sit next to it. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Murphy had to suppress a giggle. The old Merlin was throwing a tantrum, and he looked ridiculous.
Murphy had tried to speak more to the old man over the next hour, but the only response he got was a rather rude gesture with a long middle finger. Both of them were relieved when they saw Miata trudging up the hill towards them.
He was dragging a bloodied sack behind him, the sound overwhelming his footsteps. He was also bloodied and dirty. His overall demeanour made it seem like he had been in the woods for days. He approached Callus first, and dropped the sack at his feet. Murphy was about to speak to his grandfather from the cage, but he decided against it when Miata stared at him for a moment. He had a way of silencing just about anything with that stare. Murphy wondered, and not for the first time, if that stare was some kind of magic.
“Oh my” Callus said, looking into the sack. “That’s grim”.
“Aye” Miata responded. “You met the boy then?” He asked.
“Indeed” Callus replied, smiling at Murphy. “You didn’t tell me about his condition” he said.
“What condition?” Murphy asked, butting in.
“That you’re a Warlock” Callus said. “It’s hard to train the things” he continued, looking back at Miata.
“The things?” Murphy scoffed.
Callus flicked his wrist again, and Murphy felt a cloth covering his mouth. He pulled at it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried to say something about it, but he couldn’t open his lips. He couldn’t even make a sound. While he panicked in the cage, the old men continued their conversation.
“He has his use” Miata said.
“Too true” Callus replied. “But they tend to bring trouble”.
“Yer’ no stranger to trouble yer’ self old man” Miata replied.
The sound of metal rattling on stone interrupted them. Murphy was running his sword along the pillars of his cage in a desperate attempt for attention.
Callus sighed, and gestured towards Murphy.
“Let’s speak inside” Miata said, already walking towards the dilapidated house.
The old men disappeared behind the walls, and Murphy harrumphed. He wanted to know what they were saying. They were gone for enough time for the evening sky to form. He looked at the sack for most of the time, wondering what kind of monster his grandfather had slain. Having nothing else to do, he also familiarised himself with his new inks. Miata had labelled the bottles in Dolmic, so he could only discern what a few of them were. He did of course try using the ink to break free of his prison, though each attempt was unsuccessful. Every time he drew or painted or even splashed ink onto the stone, it was absorbed into the stone in a flash. He gave up pretty quickly, deciding not to waste anymore of it.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
When they did come back, he was laying on his back with his feet in the air, staring at his boots. He was contemplating enchanting one of them when the stone retreated into the soil around him. He scrambled to his feet and tried his best to look dignified.
“So you’re done then?” He asked, brushing the dirt from his cloak. The light colour of the dirt stood out on the black fabric. He frowned thinking about washing it.
Miata grunted, and gestured between Callus and the boy. Callus pulled a pouch from the air, it was small and made of cloth. He tossed it to the boy, but he wasn’t ready to catch it. It bounced off of his chest and hit the ground with a thud. Callus sighed and looked at Miata again.
“You really are ripping me off here” he said resigned.
Miata grunted and nodded. “We will have to do something about him” he said, pointing at the bloody sack on the ground.
Murphy picked the pouch up while the old men walked to the sack. It was heavier than he expected, a lot heavier. Whatever was inside was cold enough to chill his hands through the fabric. He opened it to find a deep purple crystal. He felt a wave of pressure come from it when he touched it, his body felt awake and his mind raced. It was the first time he had ever touched an object of such power. The red crystal that Coil had given him was significant in its strength, though it was small, which limited its potential. A purple crystal is more dense in its charge, and this one was big enough to fill the palm of his hand.
“I don’t know why” Callus responded to Miata, breaking the boy free of his trance. “Just leave him to the beasts I say”, he said coldly.
“That’s not the way of things” Miata scolded, taking a knee beside the sack.
“He wasn’t my friend” Callus replied, waving the concern away. It was becoming quickly apparent to Murphy, that the old Merlin likes to do half of his talking with his hands.
“Its not the way old man” Miata grumbled, standing to his feet. “We will send him off in the old way” he declared.
“Fine” Callus complained, “I’ll gather the wood” he sighed. He turned to Murphy, and smiled. “ Go and gather some dry wood boy” he said, snapping his fingers.
“Why me?” Murphy whined.
“I’m your boss now little Warlock” he replied, clapping his boney hands together. “Now get to work”.
Murphy looked desperately at Miata, but his plea for help was only met by a grunt and a nod. He was fairly confident for the second half of the day, that this crazy old man was going to be his new master, he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. He took in a deep breath, and turned to stomp off and find some wood. He trudged to the edge of the clearing with his back to the men, he didn’t want them to see the salty tears that started their way down his cheeks.
He dragged a good number of fallen branches he found nearby, and was told to place them in a large pile in the centre of the clearing. His grandfather spent the time organising the sticks and logs into a platform for whoever was in the sack. Callus spent the time reading something and reprimanding the boy for bringing back green sticks. Finding the wood was a relatively easy task, as there hadn’t been any rain in the area for a long time. Murphy fiddled with a rune stick he carried in his pouch, and wondered to himself. If he was to snap the stick, and bring the rain, it might just ruin the cranky old man’s book.
The sky was dark by the time he was finished. Callus kept him working for a little longer by throwing out glowing balls of light to illuminate the woods nearby.
“That should do” Miata said, breaking the silence between him and his old apprentice.
“Already?” Callus asked “but I was having so much fun” he cackled from behind his book. There was a faint rumble of thunder, and he slowly lowered his book to look at the boy. “You didn’t” he growled, just in time for a large raindrop to fall onto his current page. Soon enough, the rain was bucketing down onto them. Murphy pulled the stick from his pocket and tossed it at the Merlin’s feet.
“I’ll get you for that boy” Callus said, vanishing his book.
Murphy smirked, “Now that you’re done there, maybe you could give us a hand” he said.
“I’ll take your hands” the old man snapped.
“Enough of that” Miata interrupted. “Callus, can ye’do somethin’ about that rain” he asked, looking with concern at the funeral pyre they had constructed.
Callus groaned, and waved his hands. Soon enough, the rain cleared as quickly as it had come, and Miata took a moment to ring his shirt dry. Unlike the two magicians with him, he didn’t find the use of a cloak necessary.
The Demai man hoisted the sack onto the pyre. With a wet thud, it settled in amongst the branches. Whoever was inside must have been in a state when Miata found them, the sack wasn’t even the shape you come to expect a covered corpse to be. He looked around the clearing, then at the two others.
“Don’t suppose ye’ have any fancy words for it?” He asked them.
Murphy actually thought about it for a while, but his contemplation was interrupted by the old Merlin speaking up.
“Dalliance” Callus said, looking at Miata for approval.
“What?” Miata asked.
“Dalliance” the Merlin said again, “you asked for fancy words, so, Dalliance”. He looked proud of himself.
“So be it” Miata sighed. He raised his hand, and placed it on the edge of the pyre. The comforting smell of wood burning filled the night around them, then the whole pyre burst into flames.
Murphy had seen his grandfather use his powers before, so the sight wasn’t a shock to him. The Demai reached into his pocket, and tossed a small piece of metal into the fire. It was the same shape and design as the medallion Callus had shown to the boy just a few hours earlier. The only difference was the crystal at the centre, this one was blue. With that momentary glimpse of the crystal, the boy had now seen all of the colours of power that he had ever heard about. The medallion landed on the sack, which was now fully ablaze. And Miata stood silent with his eyes closed.
Murphy had never seen a Demai funeral. Whenever somebody died in Malnir they were buried beneath planned farming plots. It was a grossly practical way to dispose of the deceased, and he didn’t like to think about the food he was eating being full of dead folk. He decided he liked the Demai way a lot more.
“What about that?” Callus asked, pointing at the house.
“We could burn that too I suppose” Miata sighed, “Could bring trouble if the wrong sort get a hold of her” he said, lighting his hand with flames again.
“I have a better idea” Callus declared with a caustic grin. He approached the house with a deliberate stride, and positioned himself about ten meters from the front door. Miata put his hand on Murphy’s chest and walked the boy backwards several large paces.
He was going to ask his grandfather what the crazy wizard was doing, but figured he would get a clearer answer from just watching. The old Demai wasn’t one to use many words after all.
Callus rubbed his hands together, then spread them out wide. There was a flash of light from where he stood, followed immediately afterwards by a bright glowing circle at the man’s feet. Slowly, the circle started to fill with Dolmic lettering. He was making a rune. The boy looked on in wonder as the rune filled itself out. Callus summoned a book into his right hand, and set it to float in front of him. The pages turned one by one, and as they did, the runes drawn along them peeled away in their own light shows, and joined the spinning rune on the ground. The wind roared through the trees, and the house shuttered. By the time the rune had finished forming, the clearing was completely lit. The colours of aspect had Murphy speechless as he watched the display. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Callus cackled loudly, and the house shook with more violence. “Come on you old shit” he screamed into the wind. “Rise!” he shouted, “Show me what you’ve got!”.
The house made an ear splitting creaking sound, and the ground shook beneath their feet. Slowly, it started to lift from the forest floor. At first, Murphy thought the thing was floating, until he saw the legs. At each corner of the boxy building, there was a massive chitinous leg unburrying itself. The house stumbled as it got its footing, and painfully elevated to its full height. When it was done, the doorway sat at least twenty feet in the air. The old man’s book filled itself with the runes that drifted from the pages, and floated back into his hand. The rune circle on the ground also faded away, and the rushing wind died off. With the spectacle over, the clearing dulled back to the orb light Callus had provided.
“Damn the gods, I am good”. The Merlin celebrated with a less than elegant jig, and he revelled in his own greatness.
“Is that the ferry” Murphy asked in awe, standing next to his new master.
“It’s my ferry” Callus said proudly.
That prompted a disapproving grunt from Miata. Callus looked at him, incredulous. “What?” He asked, throwing his hands in the air. “He’s not using it”, he gestured to the pyre, that by now had nearly burned out entirely.
“So be it” Miata replied, giving up on the argument before it started.
“So you’re just going to take a dead man’s house?” Murphy asked aghast.
“No, I might just leave it here for the beasts and bandits” he said sarcastically.
Thinking about it, Murphy had to resign that the old man was right. As nasty as it seemed, it would be impractical to just leave a walking house in the woods. He also decided it might be kind of fun to ride in the thing.
With travel arrangements organised, and the sale of Murphy’s service completed, the old men decided it was time to part ways. The young Warlock helped his grandfather load the boat they arrived on with some fire wood and the carcass of a large bird that was roosting nearby. The Merlin had slain the bird for sport, declaring he hates the things, and Miata decided it was a shame to waste good meat. He halved the carcass with Murphy’s sword, and left it wrapped in a large leaf for them.
The boy was anxious about his goodbye. He mourned his own expectations however, when the old Demai simply put his hand on the boy's shoulder and wished him luck. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, he probably would have felt strange if the old man had cried. He just hoped for a bit more familiarity. He did know the old man well enough to assume he was sad though, and that put him at ease.
He only cried when he saw the boat disappear into the trees, and the reality of his new life started to sink in.